


the sky isn't blue (and other truths)

by galerian_ash



Category: Afdeling Q | Department Q (Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missing Scene, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:15:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26572042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galerian_ash/pseuds/galerian_ash
Summary: After the fire, Assad helps Carl get back home.
Relationships: Assad/Carl Mørck
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20
Collections: Fandom Giftbox 2020





	the sky isn't blue (and other truths)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [River_Song](https://archiveofourown.org/users/River_Song/gifts).



> Just a little missing scene from Fasandræberne (The Absent One)!

"Just go home, Assad. I'm fine."

"Sure, sure," Assad mumbled, adjusting his grip on Carl. Despite his words he was putting more weight on Assad, and his eyes weren't tracking right. They kept flitting around, as if he couldn't quite manage to focus on anything.

Assad grit his teeth. "You should go back to the hospital."

"I'm _fine_. I mean it. You don't have to be here. I don't-"

"Don't need me, yeah, I know. I remember."

Carl's face twisted. It made him look even more miserable than before, something Assad hadn't thought possible. He wrenched himself free from Assad's grip and stumbled over to the couch. He sank down on it and buried his face in his hands.

"Yeah," he said, voice muffled, "I don't need you. Didn't need you then, and don't need you now. And my head doesn't hurt at all, and your coffee doesn't taste like shit, and the sky isn't blue. That's the truth, all of it."

Assad stared at him, eyes wide. "Carl..."

"Go home. Please, just go."

No way that was about to happen, especially after what Carl had just told him. He took a deep breath and moved forward to sit down next to Carl. "I'm not leaving you alone."

Carl's tense body deflated all of a sudden. He sank back against the couch. "I appreciate the sentiment, but this isn't helping."

Assad frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not like you. I can't see the worst in people, day after day, and still smile. Can't still believe in things."

"Hey, I know it can be hard sometimes, but..."

"No," Carl said, cutting him off, "you don't get it. I don't _want_ to be like you. I can't. It just leads to disappointment and I — I can't, Assad. Okay?"

"Okay," he agreed. There was something agitated in Carl's voice, stressed even. The doctor had said that he should try to stay calm. "Take it easy. Relax." He reached out to touch Carl's shoulder, wanting to ground him.

Carl flinched away, eyes blazing. "Goddammit, didn't you hear me? I don't want you to be here. I don't want you to take care of me when I feel like shit. I don't even want you to catch me when I fall."

Assad sat quietly, mind working frantically while he watched Carl turn away, blinking to keep the wetness in his eyes from spilling over.

It just led to disappointment, he'd said. And that was what he thought about Assad as well, wasn't it? That if he let Assad in, if he trusted Assad to be there for him, it would inevitably lead to disappointment. Assad was bound to let him down, sooner or later.

But if Carl protected himself now, if he stayed alone and didn't let Assad in, then it'd hurt less in the long run. Better to never know comfort, than to know it and then be deprived of it.

It made sense, in a twisted sort of way. In a Carl sort of way.

"For fuck's sake," he said softly. "Listen, Carl. I can't make any promises — I might get run over by the bus tomorrow, who knows. But I'm here now, and I will be for as long as I can. So shut up, and get some rest." He punctuated his words by grabbing Carl and pulling him down, until his head rested in Assad's lap.

Assad ran his hand through Carl's hair, grimacing at the dried blood that still remained. He smelled of smoke, and the alcohol he'd been forced to drink and then vomit.

He let a couple of fingers gently trail along the scar on Carl's forehead, pretending not to hear the hitch in Carl's breath when he did so. He continued to pretend not to notice even as his hand moved lower, carefully wiping away the tears. "Go to sleep, Carl," he whispered.

Carl closed his eyes.


End file.
